The Music School Blues
by QueenOfSpain
Summary: HAHA! I back! Danger, crime, intrigue and...music? That's right, folks! A new spin on an old thing. If you haven't noticed, Chapter 9 has been up for a while. Chapter 10 is brand spankin' new!
1. Every story needs an intro, right?

The most intimidating thing in the entire world is going to a new school. Now, when this school is half across the world away from everything you know, the first day jitters are amplified times a million. That day, I swore I'd just fall over and have a heartattack.  
  
I, Lucilia Gregory, have been accepted to The Academy of Music in London, England. Eight hours from Ohio had brought me to the cold stone exterior of the Academy. There were multiple buildings (ah!) in a cluster, and with sincere hopes of not looking like an imbecile, I picked the largest of the buildings and moseyed.  
  
My black shoes clicked on the ancient linoleum floors (god this place is old). The office was fairly easy for me to find. I opened the door to a desk with an old, graying woman sitting behind it. This woman stood up.  
  
"Hello," she said in a harsh high- pitched voice. "I am Ms. Pemberton, the head mistress. Welcome to the Academy." She shook my hand.  
  
"The reason why you are here is to better your musical abilities. The school does not tolerate insolent behavior, tardiness, displays of affection," the last she spit with some feeling and I didn't wonder why she was still a spinster, ".or any behavior contrary to your learning experience. All work will be in on time. You're practicing schedule goes as such." Just when I thought this old bat wouldn't stop talking, she actually got to the point. "The young man who was to bring you around the school has come down with the flu. The ONLY person whom we could find that had most of your classes has a violin sectional 4th hour, but you will go to clarinet sectional 7 rooms down the hall. Meet," her voice had just gone a bit harsher and I got the distinct impression she did not like this person, "Sherlock Holmes."  
  
Oh, how dramatic. 


	2. Ouch

With impeccable timing, this "Holmes" character stepped through the door. At 5ft 10in, he towered 5 inches above me. His gray eyes looked down a long thin nose, and he had a rather unkempt head of dark hair. Presently, those eyes were narrowed on my person. I swear I was standing there for 10 minutes under that scrutinizing gaze.  
  
Finally, "My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is a pleasure to meet you."  
  
"Likewise." I wasn't quite sure if I agreed with myself, but for the sake of not being a skitzo, I put the thought aside.  
  
"Shall we?" He held open the door for me. I gathered up my things, including my hefty clarinet case and backpack.  
  
We walked down the hallway a bit before Holmes turned toward me and fixed me with an unreadable gaze. "Why didn't you just tell him?"  
  
"What in blue blazes are you talking about?!" Yeah, that's just what every gal wants, her past delved into by complete strangers.  
  
He merely shrugged and we continued walking until we came to a sort of hub area. Holmes began pointing energetically and talking super-quickly. "That hall leads to the performing center, which has 12 different performance halls, so don't get the 12 confused; that to the music education building. It has a different 'hall' for each section, which are denoted by letter. For example, woodwinds may be in W12. This way leads to the rudimentary education halls. That's your science, arithmetic, and so forth. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yeah, sure." As if just being in England wasn't complicated enough for me.  
  
"Good." He spun down what I thought was the music ed. hallway, but I couldn't tell from my vantage point on the floor, because I had turned straight into a walking wall of muscle. He had a jaw chiseled from stone and meticulously styled blonde hair. His clear blue eyes bored straight through Holmes' skull.  
  
"Well, if it isn't Sherlock Holmes," the bombshell drawled out in a cultured voice.  
  
"Still sore about that orchestra chairing, Robert?"  
  
"If it were anyone else, I wouldn't care, but being beaten by you is a rather harsh hit to my ego."  
  
"That mustn't be too large of a loss."  
  
Robert's eyes narrowed. "I'd watch myself if I were you."  
  
Holmes sneered. "I'm quivering in fear."  
  
"You ought to be."  
  
As if remembering something very important, he turned toward me. "I am so sorry miss. Where are my manners?" He helped me off the floor. "My name is Robert Moriarty."  
  
"Lucilia Gregory."  
  
"Pleased to meet you." He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. "I hope to be seeing you around." Robert went on his way, leaving me oh-so- charmed. I wanted to see him again too.  
  
I must have looked love-struck, because Holmes cleared his throat and looked at me with a mix of expectance and contempt. "What?"  
  
"We have a class to go to."  
  
"Yeah I suppose."  
  
Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you're here for."  
  
"No, I'm here for the romantic opportunities."  
  
"There's no need for sarcasm."  
  
"Sorry, I felt compelled."  
  
After all that, we still managed to get to first- hour full orchestra rehearsal with time enough to spare for me to warm up my clarinet and for him to run and do whatever those violinists do, with rosin and so forth. By the way, the class was in a performance hall, so I was wrong before. As I took stock of the class, noticing that my only acquaintance was over halfway downstage from me, guess who came through the door and planted his bum at the low end of the violin section? If you said, "gosh I think it's Robert", I'd slap you for saying "gosh", and then I'd tell you that's exactly who it was.  
  
I must have been staring, because he grinned at me and sauntered over.  
  
"It's that girl that ran into me," Robert said as he leaned his elbow on my chair.  
  
I blushed red as a tomato. "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. Pretty smooth of me, eh?"  
  
"Don't worry about it. If you hadn't run into me, I never would have met you."  
  
"Stop the cheese act," said a smooth, urbane voice from behind me. Holmes had finished doing whatever those violinists do, and was at that moment standing there looking pretty ticked off. "Dear Abby," Robert said in that fantastic English accent. Wait, he knows who Abby is? Impressive indeed. "My arch-rival enemy is trying get my girl. What should I do?"  
  
I'm absolutely sure Holmes would have come back with some brilliant retort if he were given the time, but he was cut off by the untimely ring of the bell. Everyone scurried to their seats, except for myself, who stood by the director's podium like an imbecile, waiting to tell the director of my existence and to pick up my folder of potential doom and disaster. I'm being melodramatic, but this could be really hard!  
  
Will it be? Who knows? And lord knows I'm too lazy to tell you now! I'm cutting it off now, so come back, okay? 


	3. Music!

Here's basically a chapter devoted solely to music and the inner workings of a musician's mind. I'm sorry that I couldn't resist, and I promise there will be no more like it. By the way, PinkPanther, what instruments do you play? I want to go professional some day, but as a freshman in High School, I have a while yet.  
  
Um, also, I'm sure you've already noticed, but I'm notorious for not updating, or for updating with really short, seemingly irrelevent posts, but it'll all make sense soon enough.  
  
Enjoy People! _______________________________________________________________________  
  
My director was, for lack of a better word, dry. He was Mr. Toast-Man. He was a mid-sized, medium built man with slicked back gray hair and a crisp voice. He obviously took no nonsense what so ever. I practically cowered in fear. Once Mr. Toast-Man reached his throne (the podium) I introduced myself.  
  
"I'm Lucilia Gregory, the new student. May I have my sheet music?"  
  
"Right, I'll mark you in. Gregory, you say? Indeed. Here's your folder. Take it with you wherever you go, guard it with your life, and all such nonsense, because you'll need to take it for almost every class for the next couple weeks. If you show up in class without your music, the consequences are not pleasant."  
  
I opened it and stole a look at the heading. 1st clarinet. Excellent! "Sir? Where shall I sit?"  
  
"Don't call me sir; my name is Livingston, Dr. Livingston to you. You will be sitting in the first chair. Go on, class is beginning."  
  
I scooted, lest the wrath of the notorious Dr. Livingston be on my shoulders. I took another glance around. I know, I spend an inordinate amount of time assessing every situation, but I'd feel stupid if I would miss something. This small section of the orchestra was the crème de la crème. I was first of three clarinets, there were a few haughty flutists, one multi-talented oboe/bassoonist, 2 trumpets, and a smattering of other instruments, like percussion and so forth. There was a trumpetist who struck my attention particularly. He was a freshman, like myself, and was handsome, in a different way.  
  
"Bb concert scale," yelled Dr. Livingston (god, that's creepy). ".You miscreant children." Livingston sounded kind of like Riff-raff from the "Rocky Horror Picture Show", with that mad-scientist vibe going on. He was not what you would call a happy camper.  
  
I mentally slapped myself for not paying attention and played my scales like a semi-normal musician. We finished our circle of fifths and moved on. "Alright musician want-to-be's, pull out 'Russian Sailor's Dance'."  
  
Dr. Dry-as-toast tapped his podium with his happy wand and held his arms up. We all shut up promptly and shoved our respective instruments where they belonged. The Demented Doctor gave us a brisk running speed and we were off.  
  
We got through the first set of measures, I forget how many, rather messily. There was this nasty scale run... The low strings took the melody. After them, the high strings took over. I first heard Holmes play at the strings' cantabile part.  
  
He was incredible. While his mates were lost, his violin sang out the melody, with such emotion. Wow, I was amazed. I stared at the back of his head in amazement, before being jolted out of my reverie by the fact that I was finally up.  
  
I played with my all and impressed my neurotic self. We finished the piece soon enough. I soon found out that compared to the other pieces, "Sailor's" was easy. By the end of the hour, my lip was about ready to fall off, and my tongue was raw from all that tonguing. I caught up with Holmes at the end, and tried to speak normally as we made our way to the halls.  
  
"Hey, that was some playing. You're awesome!" I was practically grinning.  
  
He colored a bit. "Thank you. You weren't bad yourself. 1st chair, I see, and apparently competition in the clarinet section is fierce."  
  
Not your orthodox compliment, but apparently it was quite a thing coming from him. "Yeah..." I said like the smooth-one I am. "So where to next?"  
  
"Holmes, wait up!" The handsome trumpetist jogged up.  
  
"Ah, Watson!" Holmes looked up at the ceiling and slapped his forhead. "I was so preoccupied today, I completely forgot about you."  
  
Watson smiled amiabily. "I shouldn't be surprised anymore." Watson regarded me. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend here?"  
  
"Watson, Lucilia Gregory. Lucilia, John Watson."  
  
He extended a hand. "Pleased to meet you."  
  
"Likewise." What's with these English, and all the pleasantries? "So Holmes, you never answered my question. What next?  
  
I never should have asked. ____________________________________________________________________  
  
Shortest post ever.  
  
If you're saying to yourself, "Hey, I bet she plays the clarinet," you'd be right. I know, 20 slaps on the knuckles for a bit of self- insertion, but hey, I've been playing the thing for a long time, and it's pretty much what I know, so appologies in advance.  
  
Also, my spellcheck is gone now. Bad news, man. Bad news. Um, sorry.  
  
Review. Even if it's in squirrel-talk, so long as I get a review, I'm happy. 


	4. Don't Go Out Alone

Luci isn't a skitz: *** is when she's thinking. Something actually happens in this chapter! YAY!  
  
Again, please excuse the poor spelling; my spell check is gone, and I'm a wretched speller.  
  
Pinkpanther: Thanks for reviewing! :) What's beta reader? (sorry, I'm an idiot)  
  
Review! Please...?  
  
Oops, I've been forgetting my disclaimer: Luci's mine. The rest's up for grabs.  
By the end of the day, I was so drained, I could have collapsed. You know how when you learn way too much way too quickly that afterwards processing even the simplest of information is like wading through mud? Well, maybe you don't know, but that's the point I was at. I was an inarticulate mass of bone and tissue, and was thankful I was able to find my room.  
  
Upon arriving, I threw myself on my bed and tried really hard to clear my head of everything, but it wasn't working well. Let's see: numerous hallways, a very angry teacher, and that guy. ***He knows more about me than even my closest friends? How could he know...? Why doesn't the headmistress like him? I wonder if he's a troublemaker...*** There was this Moriarty guy who was oh-so-charming and hot, who had a thing against Holmes, and Holmes seemed to feel the same about him. Moriarty seemed to like me, kind of like "love-at-first-sight", and Holmes seemed rather angry about it. *** I wonder why-- *** There was too much information for my poor brain to handle. Eventually, I did the human equivalent of short- circuiting, and crashed.  
  
When I awoke, the room was completely black and I could hear my roommate snoring softly. ***Oh, how courteous of me to not bother to meet my roommate.*** "God, what time is it anyway?" 10:00pm. "Bloody-flippin'..." I cut myself short as my roomie rolled over. My stomach started complaining about how little food I gave it, so I decided I would venture forth in search of food.  
  
The hallways were much different at night. For one, they were larger to the point of being cavernous. My hard-soled dress shoes clicked hollowly and eerily echoed. It smelled like a mix of disinfectant and damp mustiness that weighed me down and material shadows crept round like disturbed ghosts. I involuntarily shivered as nameless fears stalked me down those ancient halls. At one point, I took off my shoes because the clicking got to be too creepy for me. It made me feel as though I was the only person alive, but not completely alone. The shadows moved and I could swear they were following me. When I looked over my shoulder, I couldn't see anyone, but that meant nothing. I learned once that it's best to trust one's instincts, at the price of being haunted by nightmares and ghosts of the past--- ***The night was overcast, so visibility was low. I was completely alone, to my knowledge, but I felt paranoid anyway. "It's just your imagination. You think too much," I consoled myself. I heard a noise and looked behind me, but there was nothing there. A small noise, a slight movement---but nothing was there. I only noticed my assailant when he crept up close behind me---***  
  
A hand shot out of a deep doorwell and dragged me in. Even if the hand wasn't blocking my mouth, I wouldn't have screamed. I was much too frightened. I merely shook as all my carefully hidden terrors and fractured memories came unrepressed from the recesses of my mind. It was so overwhelming that I may have collapsed if it weren't for the solid mass holding me up. This was all too familiar to me---  
  
"Do not make a sound," a familiar and urbane voice whispered into my ear. I wanted so badly to ask why, but his voice was commanding and I knew it would be a bad idea to do anything contrary.  
  
I looked up at Holmes, his brows knitted in concentration, his stony eyes fixed intently at something out there. I tried to hide the fact that I was shaking so that Holmes wouldn't think I was crazy, but I couldn't help it. I'm not the crazy one anyway---HE'S the one hiding in doorways.  
  
We waited that way forever. I heard Holmes take a sharp breath and he pulled me even closer as he flattened himself against the door. With my head against his chest, I could hear his heart beating and the slow rise and fall of his chest. There were two guys talking not far away whose voices I didn't recognize and I could only catch snippets of their conversation.  
  
"---Plan"  
  
"---Not much time---hurry"  
  
"Do---can---police cooperation"  
  
"Fools---never find out"  
  
"Careful---30 years to life"  
  
"Don't worry---good"  
  
"Okay"  
  
I heard a door open and the guys step out of the room next to us. They were in my blind spot, so I didn't see them, but Holmes could and he didn't look too thrilled about it. After some words, they walked the opposite way. Holmes and I waited a couple minutes until we were sure the guys had gone, then Holmes gently led me to the hall and began ruthlessly questioning me.  
  
"What are you doing out after hours? Do you know those guys? What's your role in this ordeal? Did you---are you listening to me?" The last he said harshly, his eyes blazing and angry.  
  
The whole time I had been staring at the floor numbly and shuddering big time, as it became harder to catch my breath. I looked up at him expressionless, then my knees weakened and I fell into a big heap on the floor. When I looked back up, I could see that he finally noticed I was completely out of my mind, and he looked back at me with softer eyes. He helped me to my feet, and draped his school coat over my shoulders.  
  
"I---I'm so embarrassed---s---ssorry," I whispered dryly.  
  
He looked down at me compassionately. "Let's get you back to your room."  
  
Oh, here's a kicker. "Uh, I don't---have my key." Holmes considered that, and seemed to be at indecision. "I could---stay in the office---or something."  
  
"No, no. Would it be terribly uncouth for you to stay with me tonight? I'm sure I can arrange suitable sleeping arrangements."  
  
"O---o---kay, but I don't want to---to get you in trouble. I already almost b---blew your cover, and I---d---d---did a fool thing like---like f-- -freaking out. I've been e---nough trouble for one day," I managed to stammer out. It was kind out hard to talk while shivering and shuddering.  
  
"Don't worry. If I actually get caught, I'm sure I can get myself out of trouble. Let's see what we can do about getting you that dinner you missed." He began leading the way to his room. I didn't know how he figured out that I missed dinner, unless of course he was a stalker or had no life, but I was grateful to finally get food after all the trouble I went through (most of it self-inflicted) to get it.  
Yeah, I know this is a weird place to cut off, but I wanted to post. Hey, you guys ought to be used to it by now, right?  
  
Please review. What would be, like, way sweet, is if you would give me ideas as to what you want to see next. 


	5. Small Mysteries Revealed

Hey, hey, guys. Ah, Easter Vacation. It's time to get caught up on my posting! I have an excuse, though. **Collective groan and rolling of eyes** It's a good one, I promise. I was preparing for multiple concerts and Solo and Ensemble. If I didn't practice, my teacher would have lobbed off my head, put it in a jar of Formaldehyde, and placed the jar in his front lawn to frighten away small children and ugly dogs.  
  
Thank you's to Hermione Holmes and Hannah Holmes.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I own Luci _____________________________________________________________________  
  
Holmes tried to be quiet opening the door to his rooms, but he wasn't quiet enough. A lump of bed covering groaned and spoke to us.  
  
"Dear God, Holmes. I know you never sleep, but some people do. Be quiet will you?!"  
  
"Stop being so dramatic. You'll be more agreeable once you hear of my case." The lump seemed interested, judging by the eye that peeked out of a space in the blankets. "Are you decent?"  
  
"Of course I'm decent. What kind of question is that?" The blob scoffed Holmes.  
  
"We have a guest." Holmes gestured me to step in. A bleary- eyed Watson crawled out from under the covers. He tripped over a shoe, scowled at it, and came to meet us. He squinted against the light. "This is Lucilia. You met her earlier."  
  
"Hey," I greeted, and rather weakly at that. I'm so pathetic.  
  
"She left her room without a key, and---," Holmes began.  
  
He was cut short by and exclamation from Watson. "Lord, what happened to you? Are you alright?" Watson was addressing me.  
  
"I---I'm okay, just a bit s-scared."  
  
"I'll say, you're as white as a sheet. Come," he busily hurried me to a chair. I looked behind me at Holmes this look that said -Is this okay? Is he nuts?-- Holmes looked mildly amused. He cocked his head to the side and shrugged. -Go with it.-- I got the impression that Watson was doing exactly what Holmes predicted. I accepted that and hoped Watson wasn't going to end up shaving my head and sacrificing me as a virgin to the cat gods of darkness, or something equally crazy.  
  
In 10 minutes flat, I was curled up in a chair with the warmest blanket ever, the best tea I've had in a long time, and a sandwich.  
  
"Watson," I said between mouthfuls. "I thought you weren't allowed food in your rooms."  
  
He grinned and opened a cubbard to reveal one those small college- style fridges. "We often miss meals." Really? These guys were getting stranger as the minutes ticked by. They had some secret, of that much I was sure, and I was determined to find out. Well, maybe after this sandwich and tea.  
  
"What's in this?" I pointed at the tea.  
  
"Judging by your shaking, coloring, and hyperventilation, I saw that you were have a panic attack. I blended chamomile, rose hips, and green tealeaves to calm you down."  
  
"It seems to be working. You'd make a good doctor one day."  
  
"No, I wouldn't," he said modestly. He probably had enough practice with a loony like Holmes tromping all over God's Creation, frightening poor, innocent girls witless--- Speaking of whom, where is Holmes?  
  
He stepped back into the room with a sleeping bag, pillow and black notebook. He tossed the pillow and sleeping bag on the floor. "I'll sleep on the floor out here. You may have my bed."  
  
"No way, I don't want to force you out of your bed. I was the one dumb enough to forget my key, so I should take the floor. Who knows, I might just end up crashing here."  
  
Holmes shrugged and curled himself up in a chair, while Watson stretched himself out on the small loveseat. Holmes whipped out his handy-dandy notebook and started paging through it. "I believe you have the case of the lab rats? Yes? Good. Then the latest would be.ah, here we are." He skimmed the notes and looked a wee crestfallen. "I have very little on this one. A student attending this school came to me about a 'conspiracy' that may be taking place in some sort of a ---high school fraternity that popped up. The group hasn't done anything criminal yet, but they are apparently planning something big. The case isn't top priority, but I did manage to get some information. In fact," Holmes said while looking at me, "those two we saw in the hall are connected to my case."  
  
Oh, that's what he does. Heh, heh, I'm such a dork. Hey, we can all give me a break, right? I mean, I was too busy to take the time to figure it out. I KNEW normal people didn't just hang out in halls after-hours, in stealth-mode.  
  
Holmes closed his book. "I'm afraid that's all I have, save some minor details that would probably only mean something to me."  
  
Watson admonished Holmes from the couch. "I'm not an idiot. Try me." Holmes started rattling off deductions and vague details, but I can't recall any of them. I really didn't mean to but I was much too exhausted to stay awake and I fell into a deep sleep---  
  
**----**I was on a ghost train. Corpses and their spirits were trapped there, riding the train to the afterlife, except I was still alive--- Now in a foggy nowhere. The spirits of my mother and brother were among the crowd of gathering souls. We were all being separated into two groups. I was put to one side and they to the other. I screamed for them to come back, but they only sadly waved and assimilated into the fog. Blood started covering the hands of the spirits left behind and they turned black as sin. They grinned wickedly at me and dragged me down. Far down into a dark abyss filled with eternal loneliness and screams of agony. **----**  
  
Holmes' POV:  
  
"But Holmes," Watson argued loudly. "You can't just totally disregarded Derek's involvement in this! I mean, he was right there, and further more-- -"  
  
I cut him off with a finger and we were silent for a moment. It was then that we heard a light snore. "Watson, I think it's about time to be heading off to bed," I whispered. "I'll take to the couch again. Good night." I grabbed my things and made myself comfortable on the couch. Watson, no longer tired after hearing of the case, reluctantly went to bed.  
  
I myself was actually tired tonight, for a pleasant change. As I settled myself, I glanced over at the sleeping figure. Lucilia was so unguarded when she slept, as opposed to during the day when she was hiding some secret. I showed in her face, the way her eyebrows furled and she frowned. I did not wonder that she was dreaming, perhaps of what happened to her. Watson's dramatic outlook on life must be starting to wear off on me. I fell asleep before I could over dramatize any further.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________ _________  
  
Sorry, I didn't know how to write that last part, and I'm afraid I've butchered it. Oh well, it's my story and I can do thing like that, right?  
  
If the length bothers you, tell me. If you like it, tell me. Give me feed- back, boys and girls.  
  
Enough mad ramblings for now. Go review! 


	6. Oh! Now there's a plot!

Okay, boys and girls. I need reviews. This is my last post until I get reviews. I think you guys can manage ten. Yes? That sounds like a good number.  
  
I need imput! You get bonus points for imput!  
  
Thank you to Nako-chan!! _______________________________________________________________________ I was more than happy to be asleep, I really was, but the hand on my shoulder simply had no regard for my wishes. I had tried swatting it away, but it had a firm but gentle grip. I grunted/moaned at the offender.  
  
"Alright, we're half-way there." Holmes was waking me up. Why was Holmes waking me up? Oh yeah, I stayed the night, but that means I was never back in my room, so my roommate knows I'm gone, and I don't have my things---  
  
"Bloody hell---" I opened my eyes to a fully dressed, ready and raring to go Holmes. "Bloody hell! Am I really that late?!"  
  
"Shush, Watson's still asleep. I though you would want some time to get ready."  
  
I cocked my head to the side. "I don't have my things."  
  
Holmes pointed to a chair that held a tie and perfectly pressed shirt and skirt. He had somehow gotten my clarinet paraphernalia and makeup bag, and a bag that probably held something of a more personal nature. "Wow, thanks. You're amazing. How did you get all this?"  
  
Holmes waved away the compliment. "Someone owed me a favor. I was able to make a few calls this morning to have a person gather your things and no one was the wiser. Oh, and don't worry, I had a lady gather your personals." Wow, Holmes is so resourceful.  
  
I went to the girls' room and made up, keeping the thought of Moriarty seeing me look like a total babe, with my skirt rolled short and my shirt unbuttoned a bit. I sat down to a table set with earl gray tea, a slice of ham, and a stack of toast accompanied with jars of butter, jam, and honey. Yummy! We ate in silence, reading the paper. After fifteen minutes, Holmes sat back in his chair, steepled his fingers and gazed contemplatively at the wall. I looked over my paper at him, gave him five, and asked him, "What did you find?"  
  
He jolted upright in his chair. I stifled a giggle. "Just a couple of happenings that piqued my interest. I wanted to see what I could deduce from the bit in the paper. Unfortunately, the local constabulary on a whole is somewhat less than brilliant, so the facts that reach the paper are either painfully obvious or erroneous." He sighed and put down his paper. "Sometimes I get so bored," and Holmes was off in his little world again. I spaced out too, to that land of happy thoughts.  
  
Our bubbles were burst as Watson exclaimed loud enough to wake the dead, "It's------LATE!", and he began running around in his undershirt, socks, and boxers, like a partially dressed chicken with its head lobbed off. "Pants, pants, pants---Holmes, have you seen my pants?" Holmes pointed to the hanger on the door. "Thanks buddy."  
  
Thirty minutes later we were running down the halls of the school, Watson clutching toast between his teeth and us latching onto our instruments for all our lives. We skidded around the corner and into class, and scampered to our seats with twenty seconds to spare. I put together in record time, pulled out my music and awaited the exalted arrival of Mr. Toast-man.  
  
Herr Musik-Nazi was never prone to tardiness, but five minutes went by without him showing. No worries; this was a good time to practice. The circle of fifths with arpeggios done in both major and minor keys, the blues' scales, and a little blues improvisation still didn't allow enough time for Senor Dry. -Alright, this is getting ridiculous- I looked at Holmes, who was apparently wondering the same thing. The class was so wrapped up in their own things that it was obvious that they wouldn't get off their bubble butts, so I appointed myself as investigator.  
  
The-man-that-surpassith-all-forms of bordom's office was in a cluster down a hallway that branched off this theater's foyer. It was down this that I walked and into his office at the end, at which point I was met with a rather surprising sight.  
  
I ran as though the hellhounds were nipping at my heels to the performance hall and to Holmes. "Holmes, Holmes, uh, there's a bit of a problem, uh, you see, aw crap, c'mon and you'll see what I mean."  
  
Holmes' eyes went big and I had to drag him out of his chair because he wasn't going fast enough for me. We ran to Toast's office and we were met with the most wretched smell. We looked in and Toast-man was surrounded and covered in vomit.  
  
"OD," Holmes and I said in unison. We launched into an in-depth investigation. "Find and count the pills." I started thinking out loud and regarding him as a science object and nothing else. "Lemme see, he's still warm and rigormortis hasn't set in yet, so he probably died this morning." He was sitting in his chair, collapsed on the desk. I lifted him up in places. "The pooling of the blood is consistent with the positioning of the body, so he hasn't been moved. That's good." I opened his eyes. "He hasn't been suffocated, which was obvious enough, but I thought I'd say as much. No bruising around the neck, no broken blood vessels, looks pretty good, except for all that vomit. You have the pills, yet? Holmes?" I turned to him, and was looking pretty dazed. "Hello?"  
  
"Now there's some handy detective work."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"That analysis."  
  
"Oh, that. Yeah, in your line of work, I suppose it would come in handy."  
  
"Okay---"  
  
"Are we finished here?" Affirmative. "Good, then let's wipe this place down, replace all the evidence and call someone in."  
  
"We don't have to do all that."  
  
"Why not? I mean, the Yardies are dim, but they'll dust for fingerprints and when they find ours, that could be really bad for us."  
  
"No, trust me on this one. It's alright." I shrugged. Whatever floats his boat, I suppose--- "Besides," he continued. "This will be disregarded as suicide. They won't even think of doing a homicide investigation."  
  
"Wait, I thought this WAS a suicide."  
  
"It appears that way, but look at this." Holmes handed me a vial.  
  
"Blood thinners, for his heart condition. It says here that he was to take one a day with food."  
  
"Yes, and look at the date. He got this filled with fifty pills four days ago, but there are exactly 49 pills left, which means---"  
  
"Pharmacy error?" I said hopefully, though I knew otherwise. I took a pill and examined it. "Woah, this is no heart-pill. Yup, the pills were most likely replaced. So, he was murdered. Now what?"  
  
-Now what?-, the most fatal of all questions. I could clearly hear the sound of footfalls heading my way. 


	7. Happy and Not So Happy Thoughts

Hey! Thanks to all who reviewed!  
  
Hermione Holmes: Yeah, she is a bit Mary Sue, but she's a bigger wuss than I am, goes to a music high school (God, I wish---), and I probably couldn't analyze a crime scene for crap. My parents are both in a medical or crime solving profession (actually, Mom's a coroner---). Luci's about as dumb as a post, though.  
  
March Hare: Sorry for being icky! Thanks for reviewing. I love your stuff! Baker Street Three is so good!  
  
Wakizashi: LOL on the eleven reviews thing. Hey, I know what it's like to be busy, so don't sweat! ^.^ I ended up leaving Watson out this chapter, but I want to keep him involved in the story. He's so smart, but no one knows it! I love your stories too. I think your stories got me hooked to Fanfiction--- Wow, that's pretty cool!  
  
Nako-chan: Thanks! ^.^ Haha, lazy ass people--- _______________________________________________________________________  
  
"Eh, shit, Holmes. What are we going to do?! Um.um." They were getting closer. "Ah! Think," I whispered harshly as I paced the floor. "Oh God, oh God, OH GOD HE'S DEAD!" The last I practically screeched just as the approaching group entered the room. I figured that exclamation was as good a place as any to begin our lie, though the game plan from there was a bit foggy.  
  
Holmes managed a ghastly shade of white while I started crying. I can actually fake cry. Wow. "Go get a doctor or the police! Get someone, anyone!" I hid my face in my hands, sobbing my little eyes out. One of the people left, and I am assuming that the other just sort of stood there, though I couldn't actually see, seeing as my hands were covering my face. Holmes gently took my shoulder and guided me out the door.  
  
We walked side-by-side, Holmes somber and me distraught. I didn't know how long I could keep up this façade, but I knew I had to keep the secret of Holmes's investigation. If I let down my guard, our cover would be blown, and the investigation would be over, not to mention the punishment the cops would put us through. Then people would talk, Holmes's and my reputations would be totally ruined and our school records would be damaged enough to keep us out of all the halfway decent colleges. So you see, this act was very important.  
  
Though I kept my eyes to the ground, I still recognized that cultured voice.  
  
"Lucilia? Are you alright?" Oh, Moriarty. -Swoon-- He put his finger under my chin and lifted my face to look into his blue eyes. ---Play it cool, play it cool--- I started crying again and tried REALLY hard not to overact. He pulled me into a gentle embrace. ---SCORE!--- "Do you want to tell me about it?"  
  
"I---I found Mr. Livingston dead this morning." I swallowed hard, as though it was terribly painful for me to recount the incident. "He was--- covered in vomit. Seeing that was so---so gruesome."  
  
Moriarty put his arm around my shoulders and led me away from Holmes. "Let's get you a hot cup of tea in my room. You can stay there and out from your classes. I'll make arrangements with your teachers." Okay, honestly, what is with these guys and their connections? You'd think I stumbled into the mob or something.  
  
He led me down mazes of corridors until we got to his room. Moriarty unlocked the door and held it open for me. "Go in and make yourself at home. I just have to tie up those loose ends I was telling you about." He locked me in and I heard footsteps walking away.  
  
Moriarty turned the key in the lock and smirked to himself. He had found a girl who would actually go to his room. It's not everyday someone new, naïve, and perhaps stupid comes along, and this one's actually good looking- --  
  
"Moriarty." Holmes appeared out of a corridor behind Moriarty. "Heh, imagine seeing you here. So you've taken to sneaking up on us innocent students as well?"  
  
Holmes's features turning stony and that certain spark in his eyes were the only indication of his deep seated anger and loathing. "Innocent, are you? I think not."  
  
"Yeah, where's your proof?" Moriarty looked mighty haughty, knowing full well that Holmes had no proof against him.  
  
Holmes clenched his jaw. "Keep your hands off of Lucilia."  
  
"Where did that come from? I do believe you are losing your perfect mind, Holmes."  
  
"KEEP your FILTHY hands off Lucilia."  
  
"Why should I? What, is she your girlfriend? She's too good for YOU, though even if she wasn't, you like boys anyway."  
  
"Lucilia is a lady, so you had better treat her accordingly."  
  
"Get a life and some play," but Holmes had already disappeared. Moriarty went on his way, thinking "happy thoughts".  
  
I've been trying so hard to update, but it's been kind of hard. I'm going to Germany in short time, so the updating may momentarily (as in for a month) stop, and I've been preparing for that trip. I've developed mysterious pains in my wrists (damn clarinet), so that makes it hard to type. Woe is me! Not really, but--- Anyway, since the updating will be sparse, I'm just going to post really short things, or cut stuff off in odd places, but I'll try to get SOMETHING on here whenever possible. 


	8. Interesting Developments

((Hey all, I'm reposting this chapter here b/c I have oodles of time on my hands and the way it got screwed up was starting to piss me off. I took time off to write all original-style, but seeing as I have absolutely no life at all, I'm going to do both!! I don't even care if this story is stupid b/c I need stuff to do! Yeah!))  
  
Guess who's back from Germany and decided to post? (Thank you, captain obvious---) I'm sorry I haven't been by to review everyone's stories, but I've been trying! Sometimes, the review box doesn't work--- Anyway, I can't imagine what kind of incoherent BS I'm writing right now, because it's, like, midnight. I know it's a really dumb idea to write anything when you're half-asleep, but this is the only time I have. Sorry in advance (.  
  
Thank you to:  
  
Pinkpanther- Look at the name of the chapter. Heehee! Thanks!  
  
Es- I hope I didn't wait TOO long---  
  
Nooka- Don't hit yourself!  
  
Estriel- You've re-read it? I feel so cool!  
  
Nako-chan- I'm sorry I haven't been reviewing your stories (I promise I'll go back and review), but they're really good! I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written for this story, so that's good ^_^.  
  
Everyone else: I'll go read your stories too! I'm sure they're really good :-D ^_^.  
  
Robert wasn't away for long, but long enough for me to get bored. **Doodily-doodily-doo--- Bored, bored, yup I'm livin' in boredom, the queen of the realm of---** But no, I can't be bored. I'm sad, yes quite sad and VERY scared, but enough thinking aloud and let's get back to this facsimile of a plot.  
  
I picked up a copy of Poe to somber me up, and sure enough, after a century at least, Robert did in fact walk through the door.  
  
"Hey," he called in softly. "How are you doing?"  
  
I sighed. "Okay. Just a little shocked, I guess."  
  
"Poe, I see."  
  
"Yeah, it helps me keep my mind off my problems."  
  
He cocked his head to the side. "Mine too." He disappeared to the other room to nuke water for our tea (again with the mysterious equipment---), and returned with two cups. He took the spot next to me and I naturally moved closer.  
  
"Oh Robert, I'm so frightened." I rested my head on his shoulder. What I just said probably sounded like a trashy romance novel, but hey, I was trying to flirt.  
  
Moriarty put his arm around me. "Don't be. If you ever need anything, you can come to me, even in the middle of the night. I will always be here."  
  
"You are just too good to be true." Now, I'm not too proud of what went down after that comment, but the truth must be told. The feeling of being appreciated by a guy was something I hadn't felt in a long time. I kissed him on the cheek and he responded. I moved to his mouth---he drew me closer and deeper into the kiss (Robert was good, I mean, wow!). He moved his hands to my waist; I put mine on his chest. Robert began unbuttoning my blouse from the bottom---  
  
"Wait," I breathed. "I don't want to go there."  
  
Robert looked hurt. "But don't you like me?"  
  
"Well yes---"  
  
"And don't you want to be with me?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"Well---," and that was the end of that. I was much too afraid to be alone, for reasons I can't go into now. I was starved for male attention and would do anything for it. I went with it, and began kissing him again. He was expertly able to get off my shirt, but I had some problems unbuttoning his. "Don't mess with that." Okay then. I moved to his pants, while he began to unzip my skirt---  
  
"WHAT IN BLOODY GODDAMNED HELL---!"  
  
Robert and I snapped our attention to the door in which Holmes had mysteriously appeared. Hearing Holmes cuss was, looking back, eerie, like aliens had taken over his body, or something. He never cusses unless he's seriously pissed. At the time though, I was about ready to kill him and throw his body into the Thames, tied to rocks---  
  
"Jesus Christ, Lucilia." Holmes grabbed my arm firmly, never roughly, and pulled me off of Robert. He dragged me out into the hall, the mess that I was, and proceeded to pull me down the hall.  
  
"What the HELL do you think you're doing?!" I was so pissed at him that I couldn't even begin to tell you. I've known this guy, what, like---well, not long enough for him to be interfering in my personal life. I wriggled out of his grip, and he stopped and spun around to face me. I slapped him upside the face, "Who do you think you are, anyway?! This is the first time in a long time that I've actually had someone interested in me. Do you have any idea what it's like to be the 'untouchable'? To be unlovable?" I thought I saw an emotion akin to regret pass over Holmes's features, but it was quickly pushed aside.  
  
"You don't know his history or what he's really like." Holmes looked revolted at the thought.  
  
"What, and you do?"  
  
"YES! That's why I---"  
  
I interrupted. "I don't need protection in my love life. Just LEAVE!" I death glared.  
  
"FINE," He growled and threw up his hands in a sign of surrender. "You do whatever you want." He turned and stalked away, leaving his last statement both a dare and a threat.  
  
Holmes stormed into our quarters, ran his fingers through his hair (his nervous habit), and began pacing the room, with the clear intent of wearing a hole through the floor. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?"  
  
"THAT BLOODY GIRL!" His outburst flattened me against my chair. It figures; Holmes has had something against girls since before I knew him.  
  
"Yes," I prodded him. He spoke quickly and heatedly, and all I could catch was something about the dead professor and then Luci and Moriarty cavorting around together---  
  
"She was going to WHAT?" Holmes nodded. "You mean beyond a doubt? There's no other explanation?" He shook his head. "Damn---"  
  
Holmes raised an eyebrow. "That's what I thought, too." He let out a sigh while collapsing on the couch. He ran his fingers through that hair again.  
  
Oh, girls. They'll break your heart every time--- "Holmes, she's only a girl. Don't get yourself worked up about it. I know it sounds heartless, but you don't owe her anything. You two were thrown together purely by coincidence."  
  
Holmes shook his head mournfully. "No. I brought her into my little crime drama. The least I owe her is my protection until I can get back out of this mess. It's all my doing, Watson." I knew that now he would want to "introspect", so I took my cue to shut up, and sure enough, he hauled himself up and stalked off. 


	9. I Don't Feel Like Naming Chapter 9

Okay, here we go. I'm going to get that nasty picture out of everyone's head here.Or maybe I'll create some more lovely pictures. MUHAHAHAHAHA!!! Don't worry, I promise to update sooner than last time, so you won't have to live w/.anything for too terribly long.  
  
I stood in the hallway, totally dumbfounded. What the hell just happened?? And, more importantly, what the hell should I do about it? And with whom? This was all way too confusing and overwhelming for me, so I just sat down in the middle of the hall and sobbed. We all know how sobbing pretty much solves everything--- Lucky for me that it was in the middle of hour 3 at the time, and that no one would be along for a while.  
  
Once I had that all out of my system, I realized that I would have to be making some choices. Holmes or Moriarty? That one was simple - Holmes had shown me his true colors, and I would never talk to him for as long as I lived, and even THEN I'd have to give it consideration. Try to investigate the professor's death? That would be a no, since at some point in time, I'd be running into Holmes. Besides, that's just more work for him. Ha. Go back to Moriarty? Yes! Seeing as he actually cares about my feelings, I figured that this would be the best plan of action.  
  
Moriarty must have been clairvoyant (or a snoop), because just as I was thinking of going back to his room, he opened his door and peeked out into the hall.  
  
"Lucilia? Are you still out there?"  
  
I stood up. "Oh Robert---" I ran into his arms and he held me. I started kissing him - on the cheek, the lips--- "I'm so sorry," I said between kisses. "I can't believe that just happened."  
  
"It's alright, darling. Holmes is a bitter guy who can't stand seeing people have some pleasure."  
  
I looked up into his deep blue eyes and smiled. "You just called me darling."  
  
"And I meant it." He put one hand on the small of my back, and the other in my hair, and drew me into a deep kiss. "So, you're my girlfriend now?" He grinned.  
  
"Of course."  
  
He drew me into his room by the small of my back and nudged the door closed, and we had the best make-out session of my life.  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
So, for the next few weeks, we were the closest, yet cruelest couple you have ever seen. Close, for obvious reasons, but cruel because of the way we tortured Holmes. I knew that Holmes hated Robert and hated it more that I was with him. Naturally, Robert and I found strategic make-out spots where we knew Holmes went by every day. You know, just to piss him off. Robert and I were impossibly close when Holmes was around, and you could tell by the reddening of his ears that he was ticked. We did the works, man. The nicknames, the sweet talk, and kisses--- It's not like I didn't enjoy it, but it all had a double purpose.  
  
Life with Robert was exciting. We were always sneaking away from class. We would go to the most remote and sometimes forbidden places in the school to make out or just talk. Once, we snuck out after curfew and met some of his friends at a hip coffee shop called "The Java Spot" where live musicians played at night. I ended up crawling into bed at 1:00 in the morning that night, which was a big deal to me since I never really went out much. The coffee shop became our favorite place, and that's where you could usually find us. Some of the best musicians in the area played there, and believe me, we would know. It was the best jazz and blues you have ever heard. Robert always knew the best places---*sigh*  
  
You all know that I'm a huge wuss, but Robert really brought me out of my little shell. Like, I would have NEVER snuck out of class, let alone school before, and now I was doing it regularly. I had actually come to love the excitement. Never expected that one, did you??  
  
I thought Robbie was the only person with whom I could keep on having an exciting lifestyle, but apparently he wasn't the only one finding an adrenaline rush. I was up in my dorm (my roomie whom I've never actually met was out that night) and I was busy preparing myself, in case Robbie decided to go out (he never really planned these sorts of things---) I put on some light make-up and fixed my hair - nothing too time consuming because who knows if Robbie would have anything planned at all? I laid clothes out and had my purse waiting for me by the door.  
  
With all that finished, I sat on my bed and did some homework. I was so engrossed in it that when I heard something out of the ordinary, I jumped 10 ft. in the air. I'm not sure what it was that I heard or how I heard it in the noisy city--- Instinct told me to look out the window and when I did, I saw nothing but shadows. I looked closer and saw a shadow walk out of a larger shadow, moving slowly and a bit hunched over. It was tall and had pale skin, and what appeared to be a dark mess of something on top---  
  
"Hey," I called out just loud enough for him to hear. "Hey you. Are you okay?" The shadow looked up, and I leaned out the window to see his face better. "Oh. It's just you." I snorted.  
  
"Get over your petty pride," Holmes hissed, then his face contorted with pain.  
  
"What's wrong with you?"  
  
He held up a bloody hand. "Accident."  
  
"Aw Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Hold tight in a shadow, or something, and I'll be right there." I shut my window, wrote a quick post- it to Robbie, and grabbing my keys this time, I ran out the door while sticking the post- it to the door:  
  
- Sorry Love, can't go tonight.  
  
Well, what did you guys think? I know you complained about the horrible imagery, but I'll help that out later. I won't take too long in updating, so just hold tight! REVIEW!!! Reviews are what keep more chapters coming!! And go review Nako-chan's fics b/c she reviewed mine a bunch, and I never reviewed hers so I feel all guilty. I also feel guilty for not helping Estriel out when she asked for it in a review. Eek, I'm mean! 


	10. Pain and Not So Interesting Developments

Shame on me! I've been away for so long that no one remembers me!  
  
Don't shoot me if my writing style changes chap. a/ chap. - they were written w/ a good amount of time b/w so, it might be---weird. Also, I don't know yet, but this might cut off in a crappy place, but I'm just sick of looking at chap. 10, so I want to post as soon as possible.  
  
Here's Chapter 10: ____________________________________________________________________________ __  
  
I ran down the hallway and down the stairs, my tennis thankfully not making a sound. I got to the street and kept to the shadows so that a curious student wouldn't wonder and the tattle on me.  
  
"Come out, come out, wherever you are, "I whispered into the darkness. Holmes walked out far enough so that only I (and not the kids on the third floor) could see him. He was hunched over and grabbing his side. "Lift it and let me see." He did so, and I THOUGHT I could see that his shirt was all torn up, but I couldn't really tell through all the blood. "Woah, better patch that up right away." He probably agreed, but he wasn't much for words tonight---  
  
I brought him up through the back way - a BIT longer and only somewhat against the rules, but it provided the cover we needed to smuggle Holmes to the girls' dorm area. It would suck if he was caught on the girls' side and it would suck worse if they found out about his case. I personally couldn't give a rat's ass about his stupid little case. Holmes accepted my help, so I'd be a horrible person to give him away.  
  
We got into my dorm room WITH MY OWN KEYS, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. (My roomie was---Lord knows where that girl disappears off to. I haven't met her yet-- --) I threw a blanket on my SMALL couch. "Sit there." I ran off to the bathroom to grab my dusty old 1st aid kit. I have never actually used it and I hoped that the necessary stuff was inside. I grabbed a towel on my way out and sat myself next to Holmes.  
  
"Lift your hand again." He was a total mess. There was some blood and some shirt going on, maybe some skin in there somewhere--- At this point, with all the blood, the shirt had blended with the skin, so that there was just a lot of dripping---material. "Off with the shirt - I can't see a thing."  
  
"You just want to get me naked." Oh my God, when did he turn into such a loser?  
  
I fixed him with the look. "Yeah, okay, you wanna look for yourself? I don't know what's skin and what's not." He took a peek, lost a little color, and took of his shirt like a good little boy. "Yeah, that's what I thought." I began cleaning the wound. "You're probably going to need stitches, but I'm going to steri-strip it until we can find something better." I babbled while I worked on him, giving him the play by play so he wouldn't have a nasty surprise. "This is going to sting a little---" He paled and laid his head back. "Woah buddy, stay with me here. Wouldn't want you passing out. How are you feeling?"  
  
He talked through clenched teeth. "This is the most painful thing in the entire world."  
  
"Pft, I doubt that. Dizzy?"  
  
He groaned. "I think I broke a rib."  
  
"I wouldn't be surprised. To tell you the truth, this is the biggest mess I've ever seen." He looked like he was about to pass out again, and the only to stop that would be for him to talk. "What'd you do to get this?"  
  
"The case. I was following," he hesitated here, though I don't know why, "- --Someone, and he found me out."  
  
"OO, bad luck. Who was it that you were following?"  
  
"Satan."  
  
"Oh Jesus, Holmes---"  
  
"I'm serious." He winced as I hit another soft spot. "He is the root of all evil - the king of criminal activity."  
  
"The Napoleon of Crime?"  
  
"You could say that. I underestimated his power. He wields a fierce stick." His voice sounded pinched, "Ugh my ribs---"  
  
I finished cleaning and stripping the cut up - It was like a foot long - and I wrapped it up with gauze and tape. Afterwards, I got him something to drink, handed it to him, and then slapped him clear across the face. Haha, way to kick a man when he's down. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to do that."  
  
He rubbed his jaw gingerly. "Speaking of underestimated strength---"  
  
"Shut up, pansy!" I started pacing angrily. "There're some things you're gonna have to get straight, boy! Number one: NO INTERRUPTING ME WHEN I'M MAKING OUT!!" I pretty much tweaked at him. "Not that great of a plan! And number two:---I don't have a number two! I just have to keep on yelling at you though!!"  
  
"You wouldn't be so mad if you knew Moriarty's dirty secrets."  
  
Holmes hung his head. "I can't tell you."  
  
I snorted. "Yeah, likely story."  
  
"Seriously. I could mean danger for you and for me. It's one of those 'if I told you, I'd have to kill you' kinds of things. Plus, it just seemed--- not right to tell you."  
  
A slow clapping came from the doorway. "Bravo, Sherlock." What the hell?! Where do these guys get these keys from?  
  
Holmes rolled his head back onto the couch. "Haven't you had enough of this?"  
  
Moriarty walked into the room, a long black trench coat tail fluttering in his wake. He was trying to hide a limp, and was doing an alright job of it, but I knew it wouldn't get past Holmes. Lot of good that observation will do him. What will he do - Glare Robbie into submission? "Robbie? Did you do this to him?"  
  
He held up a finger. "One second, darling. I have some business, "he sneered, "---to attend to." Robbie turned to Holmes, a menacing grin on his face. "So good of you to drop by tonight, Sherlock. It's too bad that you weren't invited."  
  
"I was SO hurt."  
  
Robbie eyed him up. "I guess you were."  
  
Holmes tried to look cool and shrug, but it came out more like a twitch. "No matter. With what I now know, you can be put behind bars, "he snapped, "---like that."  
  
"That can be fixed." Robbie shrugged off his trench to reveal a tight, black muscle shirt that was torn in places and bloodied with his own, and probably Holmes', blood. (Looks like Holmes held his own against Robbie.) The shirt was tight enough to show all of Robbie's impressive (and sexy) muscles. "Let's finish this!"  
  
Holmes stood up, hiding his extreme pain. "Okay. Lucilia, you may not want to watch this."  
  
"Always the gentleman, eh? Come on, show me what you've got!"  
  
I stepped between them before one of them could lunge on the other. "Don't do this, hun. He's hurt pretty badly."  
  
"Why are you sticking up for him?! Come to think of it, why is he here?!"  
  
"Because you maimed him, dumbass! I wasn't going to let him bleed his life away in the gutters."  
  
"So let me finish him off!" He pushed against me in order to get to Holmes.  
  
"Slow down, Killer! How much does it really matter? You could injure yourself further, and KILL him---"  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"So?" He would actually KILL him? "So?!" And it wouldn't bother him at all? "SO YOU'RE AN ASS!" I pointed to the door. "GO HOME!"  
  
He gathers up his trench, sneered, and as he walked out the door, said, "I'll get you."  
  
I closed the door behind him. "'---and your little dog too!' Pft, lame ass." I turned toward Holmes. "You should probably stay here for the rest of the night, just to make it easier on you, and in case you, I dunno, start to die or something."  
  
Holmes yawned. "Sounds like a plan." He eased himself onto the couch. "I could have taken him, you know."  
  
"Sure, you could've."  
  
"I would have knocked him senseless." He kicked off his shoes.  
  
"I know, I know."  
  
He laid his head down on a pillow. "I'm just saying this to make my look like less of a wimp."  
  
"Yeah, pretty much. Hey, I'm going to the other room to grab a blanket for you. I'll be right back." I went, and by the time I came back, Holmes was already sound asleep. You know, everyone looks so sweet when they're asleep--- I covered him with the blanket and tip-toed to my room. Tomorrow will probably be an eventful day. Perhaps I'll meet my roomie!  
  
____________________________________________________________________________ __  
  
There we go! Ch. 10! I'm trying v. hard to get this bad boy finished--- Any suggestions (like on a new story, or about the roomie) belong in that nice little review box, or can be e-mailed to me. 


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